Howler's Night (14 page)

His thrusts became deeper, fuller, and his scent of sandalwood... it covered me like a blanket. I knew who I was in his arms.

I wasn’t a demon.

I wasn’t a monster.

I was Pandora, a woman loved by this man. I was valuable. I was worthy—more than a vessel, more than prophecy—and Asher wasn’t here to kill me, he was here to heal me, to remind me that no matter what you’d been crafted to be, there were choices, free will.

That was
us
.

I felt my eyes begin to glow, felt Lust coming fully awake. He leaned back and smiled down on me.

“There you are, little demon. There you are.”

Then he rocked deep into me one final time, and I felt him jerk, felt him tremble.

“Come, Ash, come with me.”

He claimed my lips, and we crested the wave of that little death together.

I was limp in his arms afterward and only opened my eyes when he kissed my nose.

“Now we sleep, Pandora.”

And then his beautiful black wings withdrew from his back, and they were so large they brushed the walls. Rolling me over with him gently, he cradled me in against their velvety softness, wrapping me up in a living blanket, and he was right.

Now I did sleep.

Asher

I
t took two days of travel to get to the kissing trees. Weary from flying for the past nine hours straight, I eagerly dropped to the ground, placing Pandora gently on her feet.

She patted my cheek.

She’d been touching me more lately, and been more receptive to my touches too. We’d not slept together again, but I knew that night in the cave had done more for her than the final two months locked in Death’s cage.

The shadows in her eyes weren’t quite so pronounced. And her smiles were coming easier. I knew the demons inside her still lurked, but everyday she grew stronger, and that gave me the strength to keep at it.

“You look tired.” Her fingers brushed my brows.

“I’m okay.” I nipped her pinky, unwilling to let on just how exhausted I really was. But more than exhausted, I was anxious.

My journal didn’t contain anything life altering; I’d told her as best I could what I was, who I’d been, but there were some things in there I’d not been able to tell her. It was those things that weighed heavily on my mind.

“What does the key look like?” she asked as she began walking up to the trees.

I riffled my fingers through my hair. “It’s a scroll of parchment I’d tucked into a bronze cylinder.”

She paused and glanced over her shoulder at me.

Even her choice of clothing was changing. Today she wore tight black leather pants that looked painted on, a flowing turquoise top with an image of a
Dia de Los Muertos
skull on it, and a pair of black suede pumps. She’d looked at me shyly when she’d walked out of the shop wearing them this morning, and I’d smiled remembering how much things had changed for us in Mexico.

It was a much more feminine and soft look than I was used to from her, but it was much better than the overly large t-shirts and baggy jeans she’d taken to wearing for a while.

Her hair spilled in soft waves around her face, and I couldn’t help but hope that the outside was a reflection of what was happening on the inside, that she was softening, mellowing, that maybe this nightmare was coming closer to an end. It would never fully go away—the worst spiritual scars never did—but the sharp edges could go blunt, the knife-edge of pain could dull. 

When I reached her side, she jerked her chin toward the trees.

They were monolithic, and the bark was an unnatural dark, grayish-brown color. The trunks were thick at the bottom, becoming more slender as they wrapped tightly around each other in a helix of twists leading up toward the tops, which seemed to be leaning in, as if in a kiss.

“This is a strange place to hide the key.”

I didn’t answer her, too busy noting the lack of bird song, or any other signs of life. My body tensed.

“Something feel strange about this place to you, Pandora?” I whispered into her ear, pretending to nudge her swan neck as if ready to give her an amorous embrace. I glanced from the corners of my eyes around the acres of forest behind us; something was amiss.

We were in Massachusetts, the sky was gray, the trees were close to the shoreline of the bluish-gray bay. The gentle lapping of water on smooth river stone and the slightly briny scent in the air made it all seem very bucolic. But I didn’t like it. It felt too affected, too perfect.

Her eyes narrowed as she gazed around. In the last few months, I’d noticed how much sharper Pandora’s senses were; the additional souls had obviously heightened all her abilities, and I found I trusted her judgment more now than even my own.

Slipping her hands into her pockets, she gave me an imperceptible shrug and then laughed and swatted at my shoulder playfully. “You’ve just got a bad case of stage fright, babe.”

But her eyes told me differently. Something, or someone, else was definitely here, and her words had been for their benefit, not mine.

Nodding, I scrubbed at my jaw and grinned back at her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I always am.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, slipping so seamlessly into the role she played that had I been anyone else I would have sworn this wasn’t the same woman, would have sworn the horrors she’d seen had been nothing more than my nightmares intruding on reality. It was almost painful for me to see her this way, knowing it wasn’t real.

Ignoring the eyes I felt watching our every move, I wrapped my arm around her waist and yanked her toward me, kissing her forehead hard.

She stayed in my arms for a second, as if understanding how shaken I was, before gently patting my shoulder. “It’s okay, Ash.”

And those words, those were for me.

Realizing the game was on, I stepped away and walked up to the tree, touching the first one and feeling only a curl of power behind it. But when I ran my palm along the line of the second one, I immediately felt the undulating wave of dark power twisting through its fibrous trunk.

“Where do you think it is?” she asked.

Whether the eyes around us belonged to friend or foe, one thing was certain:  they knew what this tree was and why we were there. It was why they’d taken such pains to keep themselves hidden—to remove any trace of tracks and to leave no imprint of their having ever been there.

They could just be watchers, or they could be more. The only thing we could do was keep our knowledge of their existence to ourselves and go on with our mission.

I shook my head. “Touch the wood.”

When she did, I leaned over her and pointed at the spot on the tree where it radiated strongest.

“I feel it.” She closed her eyes. “Did you bind the key this way?”

“No.” I glanced up and down the tree; there were no notches in the wood, but that didn’t mean the key hadn’t been spelled into the trunk somehow. I recognized the signature of power; it was my maker’s. “But the one who did it wanted to make damned sure that I never found it.”

Kneeling, she pressed her ear against the trunk and ran her hands around the base of it. “It’s buried beneath.”

“I think you’re right.”

Stepping back, I pointed to the ground. “Ladies first.”

She snorted, but her eyes twinkled. “I see how it is, chauvinistic pig. Afraid to get a little dirt on your hands?”

Grabbing her twirling finger, I flicked at her very human-looking nail. “I’m not the one with claws. I saw what you did to that vampire in South Dakota.”

“Well.” She grinned and immediately her nails gave way to claws, which she curled menacingly in my face. “There is that.”

I swatted her on the ass, then leaned against the tree, crossing my arms as she shoved her hands through the soil like a hot knife through butter. She ripped up chunks of rock and soil, tossing them aside like they were nothing.

She didn’t even breathe heavily.

Pandora was so much stronger now. I’d been the more powerful when we’d met, but I wasn’t anymore. She was a beast, amazing, more than super human. She was a machine.

In less than two minutes, she’d dug more than six feet down. A second later she laughed.

“Well, lookie here.”

Bending over, I leaned in to help her out. Taking my hand, she hopped out and smiled at me with cheeks smudged with dirt. She flashed the cylinder in my face. “I got it.”

I slipped my hand over hers with palms grown clammy. “What if I asked you not to? Does it matter, Pandora, who I was?”

She glanced down at the cylinder and then back at me. She repeated the motion once more before slowly unfurling her fingers and holding it out to me.

“If you ask me not to, I won’t.”

But then she’d never know the truth, and I knew all about her. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Could I expect her to want any less?

I nodded. “You need to kn—”

The words weren’t even out of my mouth when the powerful and violent thrust of a blade slipped between my bottom ribs.

Pandora screamed when I stumbled back a step. Wrapping her in my arms, I shielded her body as best I could from any more surprise attacks and yanked out the three-inch blade. I hissed as my muscles clenched from the white-hot flare of pain that tore down my side. It would heal.

“Pandora, we’re—”

“Oh, it’s too late for warnings, Asher.” A sultry, feminine voice rang out from the brush to our left.

I recognized the voice immediately and glared at the woman who’d once been my associate.

Dahlia was tall for a woman, almost six feet, and waif thin, with sharp angular features and striking silver hair cut to her chin. Dressed in a forest-green robe, she shoved the cowl off her head and gave us a cruel grin.

Materializing beside her was Axel—a barrel-chested, squat man who barely came to Dahlia’s chest, with silver hair that fell past his shoulders. His features were hard and cold, his nose bulbous and large, his lips thin and small on his otherwise rotund features. In all the years I’d known him, he’d always worn a split beard that he braided with gold metal beads from his chin down to his waist. Strapped to his back were two broad swords that he wielded like a reaper with its scythe—deadly and accurate.

Beside him came Ari, olive skinned with deep-set green eyes, a silver Mohawk down the center of his shaved head, and dressed only in dyed green leather skins that molded to his slim physique. He looked much younger than the rest of us, but was actually the oldest. His skin had the youthful fullness of a teen. Of all of them, he was the one you should never underestimate.

“Wow, three against one. Didn’t know this was gonna be a party. I’d have dressed up if you’d only sent me an invitation,” Pandora said, before glancing at me. “I like our odds.”

Dahlia snorted, and with a flick of her wrists, four more knives materialized out of thin air before us. Two of them were the kind of three-inch blade I’d been stabbed with, but the other two were easily twice their length and breadth. Those two were crossed in front of Pandora in an X formation, a clear sign that Dahlia meant to decapitate her.

Calling the sword of
Veritas
to me—an eight-foot broadsword that licked with curls of flame and always struck true—I held it out before me, tense and ready to battle.

Pandora, however, still had her legs and arms crossed, and her gaze slowly moved among the three of them. Her look was chilling and made all the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

None of the three seemed to be aware of the murder that gleamed in my lover’s eyes.

“Put that toy away before ye hurt yerself.” Axel’s brogue was thick with laughter. “Traitor.” He spat by my foot, glaring at me hotly.

“In bed with a demon.” Ari’s mellifluous voice was full of disgust. “You will not take the key.”

Only Axel grinned. He’d always been the more gregarious of the bunch, laughing in battle, in sex, in life. It was his way, and today, he’d laugh in death. I’d make sure of that.

“Two against the three of us. Ye stand no chance. Bow down to us, traitor. Beg for mercy, and perhaps Allora will grant it.”

I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter. None of them knew of my ability to flash; it’d been a talent I’d kept hidden, knowing—or maybe even suspecting—that someday the element of surprise would do me well.

Pantomiming a loud yawn, Pandora eased off the tree, placing her slender neck so close to the crossed blades that my heart gave a lurch remembering a time she’d done something very similar with me.

Pandora seemed unfazed that she was currently staring down three death priests in their prime.

“And why do you want my lover’s key?” She arched a delicate brow.

Dahlia hissed as if slapped. “You will choke on your bile as I steal your heart, abomination.”

Pandora’s shoulders tensed. It was such a quick movement, and even I only noticed it because I knew her well. Her full lips still wore a smirk, and she was doing a damn good job of getting under their skin through her apparent lack of fear.

That little movement, that clear sign of her distaste for that term, almost brought a smile to my face. Everyday I could see her becoming her old self, and it was a beautiful thing to behold.

All three of the priests were bristling. Axel now had his axes gripped in his fists, and Ari held a deep black bow notched with a golden arrow.

Every weapon they used, even my own, had been blessed by Allora to be deadly and accurate. As strong as Pandora was now, I wasn’t sure of our odds. Priests had been created to destroy her, but she was so much more than she’d ever been. My only hope was that Allora had underestimated her.

When Axel and Ari broke away, both heading toward me, I knew they had.

Calling the shadow to me, I formed the Gray Man. The air became dense and heavy and popped with static and charged bolts of energy.

Axel’s eyes widened, and a rumbling growl tore form his throat. “That was you!” He roared it, screaming his fury as the reality of what had really butchered Jezeel stared back at him with glowing red eyes.

“She got too close. I had no choice.” I let them hear my smirk, let them see my disdain for our fallen brethren who’d very nearly taken Pandora from me when she’d stumbled upon her true location.